


Too Late

by MoiraiThanatoio



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death, Tarsus IV, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoiraiThanatoio/pseuds/MoiraiThanatoio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apologies come too late, as James T. Kirk attends a funeral the afternoon he became a Captain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Late

McCoy caught up with him in the hall outside the Quartermaster’s office. He stood for a moment, watching, as Jim accepted the uniforms for his new position.

“That didn’t take you long.”

Jim glanced over. “Bones,” he acknowledged his best friend. Then, thanking the yeoman at the counter, he turned down the hall that would lead to their dorm.

“I mean, sure, you’re a Captain and everything... But it’s been, what, twenty minutes?”

Shaking his head, Jim didn’t deny it. “I needed them, no reason to put it off. Not like I want to spend another minute in the cadet reds.”

“Then don’t. Get some civvies on and join me.”

Jim didn’t answer at first as they reached their student quarters and he began stripping off his clothes, placing the medal from his uniform top carefully on the side table. When his head was clear, hair standing every which way, he shrugged. “Sorry, I have somewhere I have to be.”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Then cancel on her, your surprise party won’t be much use without you there.”

Laughing, Jim’s blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “Not much of a surprise anymore either.”

“You don’t like surprises anyway,” Bones excused himself. Turning around to rustle through his own belongings, he insisted, “You still need to be there.”

“I can’t,” Jim excused, changing quickly into the dress uniform of a Captain. “I can’t cancel and I have to do this.”

Looking at him carefully for a moment, McCoy nodded. He could see the resolve, knew from that look that there would be no changing Jim’s mind. “Then we’ll have a ‘we’re alive’ party and drink all the booze that was supposed to be gifts for you.”

Jim straightened his hair in the mirror and pulled his tunic into place. “Have a good time,” he offered in parting with a pat on the shoulder.

Bones simply huffed to himself, changing into casual clothes and wondering what possibly would pull Jim away from a party in his own honor.

***

“James T. Kirk.”

The security officer checked his list and then held the PADD out for a confirmatory handprint. Fully cooperative, Jim pressed his hand against the surface until it beeped. Waiting patiently, he watched the guard tap a few times as he verified the print against Starfleet records. Finally, the man moved away from the door with a slight nod.

“Sir.”

“As you were,” Jim acknowledged, entering the room.

He paused for a moment, unable to take in fully the front of the room, but gazing around the surprisingly crowded space with blank eyes. He ignored the people he didn’t recognize, inclining his head in response to the greetings he received. Silent, and bothered more than he really wanted to admit, he moved towards the front and stopped next to the currently still wheelchair of Admiral Pike.

“Jim.”

A little startled at the casual greeting, Kirk smiled faintly. “Chris.”

He turned from facing Pike to raise his hand and place it on the urn that sat alone on the front table. “Hey, Mom.”

Pike waited while the young man closed his eyes, forcing his composure, before patting him on the arm and gesturing to the seats. “Come on, keep an old man company.”

There was a space obviously kept open for Pike’s chair and Jim settled into the seat immediately adjoining. He didn’t speak, staring at the service flags on the wall. The Federation most prominent, with Starfleet next to it and the ships she served on hanging below. The USS Kelvin, standing apart from the others, with its black accents denoting a fallen ship. The flag of the USS Farragut, also accented in black, was draped around the urn that held her ashes.

“If everyone would please take their seats?”

The Starfleet liaison moved to the front of the room, waiting for the occupants to settle. “As a service was declined by her preference, we will move directly to the last words of Lieutenant Commander Winona Rogers Kirk.”

He made an entry on the PADD he carried and the lights dimmed as the holographic projector activated. A woman appeared from the waist up against a bland backdrop, next to the urn itself. She was dressed in Starfleet uniform, somber in appearance with her hair pinned back severely. Still lovely, despite her age, her blue eyes flashed annoyance at the duty she was fulfilling.

“These are the last words of Lieutenant Commander Winona Rogers Kirk, Chief Engineer on the USS Farragut. I confirm that no memorial service was to be performed at my express preference. As my only surviving familial relation, all my worldly goods and possessions are to be transferred to my son, James Tiberius Kirk. Jimmy, if you’re…”

The hologram flickered.

Interference crackled for a moment causing those seated to shift in their chairs. The hologram stabilized quickly, but had changed. It was the same woman, the same uniform, but the chaos of an engine room had replaced the bland aspect from before. Her hair was pulling free from its restraint, a few curls hanging limply beside her face.

“Jimmy,” her voice broke, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m sorry to do this to you. I wish it could be private, but this is the only way that they won’t find and delete this message. I failed you. I let you think for so long it was about your father, and I hope you’ll forgive me. I failed you, but I will make sure you live.”

She swallowed hard, but the recording continued. “I calculate I have maybe two minutes before they override my message. Maybe less, but you need to know this.”

The Starfleet liaison had changed from typing rapidly on his PADD to directly entering commands into the wall’s control panel. When that didn’t stop the message, he removed the cover from the wall to access the internal mechanism.

“We received notification of the Vulcan distress signal and the ‘Fleet’s intention to activate the senior cadets approximately two minutes ago. There was no way I wouldn’t recognize the signs,” the hologram closed her eyes for a moment, the tears spilling over onto her cheeks. “A lightning storm in space. Jimmy, they’re not listening to me... I’ve been trying to contact anyone in Command to warn them, but I fear Nero is going to take my life as well.”

“You’re all I have left. When you look up the records and see that it was my hack, not the Advisory Council, that logged your suspension... I just hope you’ll forgive me. I lost your father before his time and your brother to the disaster on Tarsus. I cannot lose you and it’s my only regret that I never told you to your face...how very much I love you.”

The hologram faded into silence and the quiet cursing of the man working in the wall control panel was suddenly audible in the stricken silence of the room. Pike, who’d placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder when the message changed, turned his chair to face the rest of the occupied seats.

“Clear this room,” he commanded. “Now!”

With looks of curiosity, they began to follow his orders. A few surviving crew members of the Farragut, fewer still of the Kelvin, looked to the front at the bowed shoulders of James Kirk before leaving.


End file.
